


Conditioned

by Master_of_the_Rebels



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, TONS of crack, and crack, no really, this story is ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_of_the_Rebels/pseuds/Master_of_the_Rebels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim needs to test a theory, and Dick is the unknowing target of the experiment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conditioned

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should apologize for how crack-tastic this story is but I just can't really bring myself to mean it.

He was doing it again.

 

Dick’s head tilted, eyes blinking curiously as he watched the younger brunet reading at the window seat on the other side of the study.  For the past several days, Dick had been consistently finding Tim in various states of completely spaced out with a heavy frown of concentration on his face.  Now, this _was_ Tim, so the frowning wasn’t necessarily odd.  However, Dick knew the young man all too well to not notice how the frown wasn’t the usual I’m-exuding-broodiness-because-I’m-concerned-about-this-case-so-leave-me-alone frown, not even the Damian-came-home-from-a-successful-patrol-and-oh-look-he’s-even-more-irritating-than-before frown.  No, this frown was more of an I-know-the-answer-to-this-question-but-I-don’t-fucking-like-it-so-I’m-going-to-wrack-my-brain-for-a-more-acceptable-answer…frown. Which was just strange, because Tim was never at a loss for a suitable answer.  The kid was practically a fountain of alternative knowledge.  Tim’s team always won during Trivia Night, unless of course, Alfred was playing.  The butler was a team unto himself.

 

But then there was that—and he was going to get shot if Tim ever found out he thought this— _girly_ little movement he would always be doing the entire time.  Dick shook his head slowly with confused awe as Tim continued to twirl and stroke a section of hair from his bangs.  Tim did not primp, nor did he particularly care what he looked like, for that matter.  It was simply conveniently inbred that he happened to look hot every time he stepped out of bed in the morning and who was Dick to argue with what he saw as such a natural state perfection?  He had no complaints in that department. 

 

But this was becoming plain disturbing.

 

Tim, for his part, was relatively on the same page, though for different reasons.  He had never cared before.  What he looked like, how attractive he was to other people, it hadn’t mattered to him.  Even after the unexpected courtship he’d had with Dick, Tim never particularly gave his looks any real thought.  If Dick had a problem with something, he’d eventually let Tim know, but until then, Tim would go about his usual routine.  Unfortunately, that blissful indifference died a spectacular death just two months ago—it was all Steph’s fault, too—and now he was fairly certain he was going insane.

 

He’d just meant to go in for a haircut, but Steph had insisted that she wanted him to try out a new stylist, and as much as Tim appreciated the advice he’d received—Marcus had done things to his hair that no one had ever been able to do before—he was severely regretting it.  Because now it was all he could think about.  It was ridiculous.  And to make it worse, he’d just seen Marcus last week, and the man had complimented him on how silky his hair had been, particularly his bangs.

 

Which, while nice to hear, was vaguely disconcerting, because he may have gotten a nice cut, but he hadn’t changed his shampoo or conditioner, so there was no reason for why his hair should be any better than last time.  There was absolutely no legitimate alteration from his normal hygienic routine. 

 

Which had led Tim on a wild chase through his mind of what in his life could have possibly resulted in the change.  Alfred always kept to a strict menu, and Tim had a tendency to follow it when he was on his own.  When something worked, he stuck with it.  So it wasn’t food.  His exercise regimen was no more or less intense than usual, the only difference being that he’d started to spar more often with Dick, and, well, that generally devolved into less than Batcave appropriate things.  Not to mention that the two of them had taken things to the next level about three weeks back and…

 

No…

 

No, it couldn’t be…

 

His eyes snapped over to Dick, startling the older man with the sudden attention, who fumbled the magazine he’d been holding.  Eyes narrowing with deep thought, Tim deliberately rubbed his bangs between his fingertips.  As asinine as the idea was, it made a bizarre sort of sense.  It was the right positioning, the correct timing…

 

When Dick seemed to shiver a bit under the intensity of his stare, Tim’s mouth quirked up in a devious smirk.  Perhaps a test was in order, to verify his hypothesis.  Really, it would all be in the name of science.  Purely clinical.  Absolutely.

 

Dick never looked away from the eye contact when Tim set the book aside determinedly and stood up from his seat.  He squirmed beneath the powerful advance, unsure whether he was uncomfortable with the deep gaze or indescribably turned on by the dominance in it.  Normally they were on fairly even footing when it came to their relationship, but this was a little…different.  Tim stopped before him and reached out, hooking possessive fingers around his jawline to tilt the older man’s chin up.

 

With a quiet voice, a liquid purr, if you will, since Dick was probably going to wax poetic about this for days to come, Tim murmured in a more than suggestive tone, “Dick…take your pants off for me, hm?”

 

A frisson of static skittered deliciously through Dick’s veins at the words, and he was fumbling at his belt buckle before he could even ask if Tim were being serious.  Well, that certainly answered his previous question.  The crazy things you learned about yourself.

 

Tim watched the man struggle, lips twitching when Dick let out an irritated grunt when the zipper on his pants stuck.  Kneeling gently on the carpet in front of the sofa, Tim dropped his hands to a hard stomach, enjoying the tense and release of muscles beneath his fingertips as he slid them beneath the flimsy gray t-shirt.  Dipping down, he pressed his lips to the thin treasure trail leading down into Dick’s underwear, smiling into the kiss when his lover’s hands faltered in their motions.

 

“Tim, I can’t,” Dick gasped sharply when teeth snagged the elastic of his briefs and snapped it back on his skin.  Tim’s eyes rolled up to meet his, and Dick licked his lips weakly at the hungry expression.  “I can’t get my zipper to go down.”

 

Tim pulled back a bit to look at the problem, momentarily annoyed by the finicky jeans zipper.  The annoyance dissipated the next second, and he curled his fingers into the loose denim, demanding impatiently, “Hips.”

 

Dick didn’t hesitate to obey, planting his feet on the floor and lifting his lower body to allow Tim to yank the fabric roughly down his hips to scrunch at his knees.  The coarse motion dragged along his briefs a few inches, the soft tip of his cock peeking out from the waistline.  Dick swallowed harshly when he saw every last bit of Tim’s concentration zone in on it, and he reached out to caress the bangs away from Tim’s eyes.  “Tim, you—oh god!”

 

Tim all but fell into him, mouth open and tonguing the head with far more eagerness than should be legal.  Fingers pulled at the elastic, and Dick’s body rose once more so Tim could maneuver the briefs down to join the pants as the whole ensemble hit the floor with one well-placed tug.  Abandoning the clothes for Dick to shake off on his own, Tim slid both hands up strong inner thighs, wrapping sure fingers around the base of the shaft and giving it a single purposeful stroke.

 

“Yes, Tim, just like that.” Tim’s lips tweaked at the sides, always a fan of Dick’s tendency to ramble.  It was practically an audiobook of How to Make Dick "Sing".

 

Never one to defy proper instructions, Tim took a slow breath before flattening his tongue and sucking the tip into his mouth for the briefest of moments.  The heavy shudder of pleasure that earned encouraged him, and he set to work with his goal in mind.  He spread his lips further, using his brace on Dick’s legs to lower himself down slowly, hearing the way the working of his throat on the tip of Dick’s cock made the man inhale shakily with each pull.  Tim gave a leisurely hum of satisfaction as Dick grew steadily harder in his grasp, and he finally tasted the familiar saltiness of precum dripping lightly onto his tongue on a particularly slick suck upwards.

 

“You’re gonna have to erase the surveillance tapes,” Dick bit his lower lip, slouching down on the cushions to accommodate Tim when he scooted closer and nudged Dick's left leg up onto his shoulder.  “Al-Alfred,” Dick’s stomach spasmed when Tim made what might have been a scoffing noise around his dick, “Alfred won’t be too happy about us doing this in the study.”

 

Tim drew away with a frown, shifting to the right and biting down on a taut groin muscle, causing Dick to yelp at the cruel treatment.  With a meaningful glare, Tim mouthed the red spot, resting his cheek on Dick's thigh and laving his tongue along the base of Dick’s cock, grumbling, “Don’t talk about Alfred when you have your dick in my mouth.”

 

Dick laughed breathlessly, twisting a lock of Tim’s dark hair around his middle finger and tugging playfully.  “Such a dirty mouth, Timmy.”

 

“Bet you can make it dirtier,” Tim quipped, not missing a beat, and Dick’s hips shoved up in retaliation, dragging his length along Tim’s nose and cheek.  Eyelids crinkling slightly at the action, Tim turned, baring his teeth and lightly running the blunt surface of them down hot skin, then back up to open his lips and encircle the reddened head.  Dick's choked out " _Oooh_ my _god_ " was all the incentive Tim needed, and while he rolled his tongue slowly, deliberately along the pulsing vein underneath Dick's length, Tim wrapped his arm around Dick's thigh and his thumb and forefinger around his cock to keep the man from moving.

 

Successfully pinned, Tim laid his free arm against Dick's hip and slipped his middle finger into his mouth on a deep bob downward.  The extra friction from the finger caused Dick to dig his heel into Tim's mid-back, a hand in his hair forcefully pulling him down an extra inch, and Tim had to open himself more than was comfortable when the depth made him choke slightly.  Dick was instantly apologetic, soothing with shaky hands against his cheeks and in his hair, and Tim drew away with a rough gasp for breath, only concerned with the finger that came away sufficiently wet.  Turning his head to press a tender kiss to Dick's palm, doing some soothing of his own, he smiled at the way Dick went still and then exhaled in a rush at the touch of Tim's finger to his hole.

 

"Yes...yes, _do it_ , Tim." Dick's eyes fluttered shut at the testing pressure, and he slid down on the cushions a bit further, a less than subtle request for Tim to get a move on. 

 

Tim opened his mouth again, this time to drag his lips teasingly across the darkened head of Dick's cock as he worked his finger deeper inside his lover with short thrusts and shallow circles.  They'd only done this once before for Dick, Tim usually being on the receiving end, but Tim was sure he'd be able to—

 

"There, Tim.  Wait, go ba— _yes_ , right there."

 

And when all else failed, Dick was more than willing to be a verbal guide.

 

Distracted by his ministrations and pulling off of Dick's cock, Tim pressed into the soft patch, knuckles brushing beneath Dick's sac, and the older man was reduced to an increasingly quivering mess as Tim massaged into his prostate with firm intent.  A particularly prolonged push had a large bit of precum shooting out, hitting Tim's upper lip, reminding him of his real purpose, and while he generally indulged Dick's little "facial" kink, Tim had bigger plans for the day, and he closed his mouth around the head, keeping its heavy weight in the middle of his tongue, despite Dick's aborted attempts to thrust deeper.

 

"Tim, Timmy, I'm, _Tim_ ," Tim sucked with more abandon the more his name was called and stuttered, the taste of Dick's precum becoming stronger until both of Dick's hands fell into his hair, his only earthly anchor, and the man released a relishing moan of pleasure, his leg holding Tim to his body desperately as Tim worked his finger and mouth through the tremors of Dick's orgasm.

 

Tim could feel the warm liquid pooling on his tongue in spurts, slipping down the sides, and it took everything in him not to swallow on reflex when his mouth began to salivate even more in an instinctual effort to enhance his sense of taste.  Dick was whimpering above him, fingers petting incessantly through Tim’s hair with whispered words of praise and disbelief, and Tim stroked firmly up the thick length, lips sucking steadily at the sensitive head, determined to get every last drop out of the prone man.  He kneaded his finger a few more times into Dick’s prostate, drawing out a shuddering groan from him.

 

“T-Tim, god, Tim, you have to—” he moaned, hips jerking when his younger lover’s hand pulled out to roll Dick’s balls through strong fingers, and his leg slipped from Tim’s shoulder limply.  “You have to stop, it’s almost too much.” Dick’s head fell back, mouth open and jaw trembling, as one last unforgiving suck was given before Tim pulled away.

 

Mouth dry from his heavy breathing, Dick sent a drowsy smile in Tim’s direction.  He’d never figure it out, but something about blowjobs just made his entire body want to collapse and go to sleep.  Curling his fingers into Tim’s as the young man stood up, he tried to coax him into his lap for some post-lovin’ cuddles, but Tim only leaned forward to press a short, wet kiss to the corner of Dick’s mouth.

 

“Tim?” Dick frowned in confusion as the teen gave him a close-lipped smile and turned away, striding for the hallway without a word.  “Tim!  What’s, hey, Tim!”

 

Tim ignored the bewildered tone and made his way through the corridor, beelining for the closed door at the end.  The nearest bathroom to the study was Jason’s, and Tim shoved through the door without any hesitation, ignoring the startled jump and subsequent curse when Jason nicked himself with the razor he’d been shaving with.  "What the hell, twerp?  Get out of my bathroom!"

 

Tim hip-checked the irate man out of his way so he could stand in front of the sink and mirror, flipping the faucet on and scooping up enough water to soak a portion of his bangs.

 

"No, seriously, what are you doing?" Jason made to reach forward, intending on forcing the teen to face him, but stiffened when Tim's mouth opened and thick, white liquid poured out into his cupped palm.  "What the _fuck_ is that?" Jason dropped his razor in his shock, not even capable of caring when it bounced off the toilet seat and into the garbage.  "Oh my _god_ , is that...?"

 

Tim shot a dry glance towards him and deadpanned, "You really need me to answer that?"

 

Jason's mouth gaped open, and he started to speak, but cut himself off, eyes widening with newfound realization.  "Is that _Dick's_!?"

 

Irritated, Tim's brow furrowed and he replied with hardly a thought to the consequence, "Whose else would it be?"

  
Horrified, Jason watched Tim lift the cum and work it into his hair with such a focused movement that one might think it were some sort of fine, high-class conditioner.  As far as Tim was concerned, it might as well be, because if his theory were correct, his bangs were about to be silkier than when he'd woken up this morning.  Jason's incoherent babbling was practically static in the background as Tim proceeded to rinse his hair out. 

 

When he was finished, he wrung it out with the hand towel, raising an eyebrow at the blow dryer hanging off the side of the countertop.  "Why do you even have a blow dryer?"

 

Instead of answering, Jason spat, still frozen in his corner of horror, "You are one seriously sick puppy, you know that?"

 

Tim rolled his eyes as he slid the smooth texture of his almost dry hair through his fingers.  "Oh, shut up, Jason."

 

"Like hell, I'll shut up." Apparently Jason's balls had returned from their flight of fear at Tim's apparent insanity.  "Coming into my bathroom to take a bath in Golden Boy's jizz?  Not cool." With a confident, though somewhat shaky, smirk, Jason threatened, "What are you gonna give me to keep me from going right now to the Idiot Wonder and letting him in on this little secret?"

 

Tim's eyes narrowed, and he sent a cutting glare toward the rebel.  "What I'm going to give you? I'm not going to tell Damian that I know it was you who replaced his conditioner with Nair." Shoving past the wary man, Tim graced him with a smug grin.  "I'm sure he'd be very interested in knowing you're the reason he's been forced to wear one of Dick's beanies for the past two weeks."

 

"You wouldn't." But Jason didn't sound so sure anymore.

 

Tim only smiled cryptically, and left the bathroom with a flippant wave.  Dick met him halfway down the hall, eyes worried at first, but quickly transforming to happy when Tim smiled at him and leaned up to give the man a proper kiss.

 

Dick wasn't going to ever know about this if Tim had anything to do with it, but something told him the man probably wouldn't complain either way.


End file.
